Untended Wounds
by kokoda2007
Summary: Sam and Dean return to their motel after a simple hunt is completed. In their profession, they should have already learnt not to leave wounds untended.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Summary: **Sam and Dean return to their motel after a simple hunt is completed. In their profession, they should have already learnt not to leave wounds untended.

**Untended Wounds **

Written by Kokoda2007

**Chapter 1**

Sam stripped down to his underwear.

He shivered as the damp air washed over his bare skin.

Under the weak light cast by the dim globe, Sam peered at himself in the grimy bathroom mirror. The mirror hung slightly askew above the bathroom sink, inadequate really even for shaving. Unable to move backwards in the confined space, Sam gave up on trying to view the injury near the back of his shoulder. Instead, feeling the thin trickle of blood forming an unbroken line down his back, he hastily turned on the shower before the crimson drops made their way on to the floor.

Shivering slightly in the cold, it took longer than expected for the water to run warm, and he kept an unsteady hand under the spray, waiting, seeking his opportunity to immerse his body in the comfort of warm water.

Finally, satisfied with the temperature, if not the water pressure, he stripped off his boxers and stepped into the shower, adjusting the shower head outwards as there was no possibility of standing underneath the inappropriately low fixture. He slowly rotated, allowing the water to hit his body from all angles and wash away the day's sweat and dirt. Looking down, he couldn't fail to notice the red tinge to the escaping water as it moved steadily towards the drain.

Cupping his hands together under the warm spray, he waited each time for them to fill before splashing the contents over his face and head, running his hands through his wet hair to disperse the water and shake out the grime. Satisfied with the results, he ran a weary hand across his face, rubbing the water from his eyes and brushing the hair back from his face. He would have loved to remain under the warm water for longer, but knew Dean was waiting in the other room, no doubt struggling to curb his impatience to start his own shower.

One final rotation under the water and he turned it off, stepping out of the shower stall reluctantly. Trying again to look in the mirror proved futile, the small room was now immersed in the humid steam and the mirror fogged beyond salvation. Regardless of how many times he swiped across it to clear the fog the mirror again quickly clouded, hiding his reflection.

Grabbing one of the thin motel towels off the rack, he dried his hair before patting the water off the rest of his body. He could feel the small trickle of blood that continued to make its way down his back, uncomfortable in its sticky trail. Searching the small bathroom, he could find nothing to use to stem the viscous flow. Not wanting to destroy the single remaining clean towel - Dean would kill him – he instead picked up his discarded t-shirt, folding it haphazardly a few times before holding the wadded fabric to the wound, applying gentle pressure.

Leaning his head against the cold wall tiles, he closed his eyes and waited. Waited for the flow to ebb. He could feel the cloth becoming damper with the soaking blood, so he the held it a little tighter, applied just a fraction more pressure, resolutely ignoring the corresponding pain this caused.

He bit down hard on his lip, preventing a moan from escaping.

Eyes closed, he became lost in his thoughts as he blocked out the ache radiating through his body with every heartbeat.

"Sam, come on man, hurry up." Dean pounded his fist on the bathroom door.

Sam jarred out of his trance, momentarily confused by his surroundings.

"Ah …yeah …just a sec…"

Realising that he'd lost track of the time, he glanced around, bemoaning the fact that in his haste to beat his brother to the shower he had neglected to grab any clean clothes. Slowly, he pulled away the blood soaked t-shirt from his wound, thankful that he didn't feel the blood start to immediately flow again. He threw the bloodstained garment into the corner of the room, to rest amongst his other discarded clothing. Looking at the dismal excuse for a towel, he pulled it around his himself tightly. It was only just large enough to wrap around his lean waist, and necessitated him keeping a firm hand on the join to prevent it from slipping.

Raising his free hand to the door, he turned the knob and pushed it slowly open.

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Dean paced impatiently outside the closed bathroom door, berating himself for the umpteenth time for letting his younger brother get the slip on him and get first shower. He was dirty, cold and wet. He'd already kicked off his mud caked boots near the motel door, but the rest of him was filthy and drenched from head to toe. They'd just finished a fairly easy salt and burn, although the burn part had proved a bit troublesome due to the torrid rain and muddy conditions. But hey, he smiled to himself, even under challenging conditions, he could start a fire. Sometimes it just took him a little longer than others. Sam had kept the unruly spirit occupied; giving him those extra couple of necessary minutes to light a spark and send the pesky spirit back to …wherever. All in all, he thought, a successful night.

As another small shiver racked his body, he contemplated pounding on the bathroom door again, hurrying his brother up. He held his clean clothes in his hand, well away from his sodden body, his irritation growing. He just wanted a hot shower and to hit the sack. It was close to midnight, and after spending the evening digging up the spirit's water logged grave, he was exhausted. He moved closer to the bathroom door and raised his hand, ready to really pound this time. The shower had been shut off a few minutes ago but Sam hadn't emerged, and his patience had reached an end.

His fist was raised ready to strike when the door opened, emitting Sam in a billow of steam. Dean felt the warmth coming from the small bathroom and moved instinctively towards it.

"Better have saved me some hot water," he tossed in his brother's direction as he moved purposefully into the bathroom, kicking the door closed in his wake.

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After leaving the humid warmth of the bathroom, Sam felt the chill in the bedroom hit him with a rush. He gripped the towel around his waist a little tighter as he rummaged through his bag for some clean sweat pants and t-shirt. Retrieving the items, he quickly dropped the damp towel and slipped into the dry clothes before easing himself down onto his bed. Still cold despite the fresh dry clothes, he pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed. Pulling the covers tightly up to his chin, he shivered against the cold sheets, desperate for his body to generate some warmth now that it was cocooned under the covers.

From his prone position, he watched the bathroom door, waiting for Dean to finish up in the bathroom. Feeling the dampness underneath him, he knew that his wound was bleeding again and that he probably needed a few stitches. He had meant to ask Dean to do it when he came out of the bathroom, but one look at his brother's drenched clothes and fatigued features and he'd decided it could wait until Dean had showered and got into some dry clothes. He didn't want him to needlessly catch a cold or get sick. He could wait a few more minutes.

Watching the still closed door, he finally heard the water shut off, followed by the resonant sound of Dean's humming, no longer obscured by the shower noise. He smiled as he recognised one of Dean's favourite Led Zeppelin songs, something he hummed when he was relaxed and in high spirits. Shifting slightly, trying to get comfortable, he waited patiently for his brother to emerge from the bathroom.

Within moments his eyes drifted closed, signalling his defiant body giving up the wait and succumbing to sleep.

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Dean hummed under his breath as he towelled himself dry. He luxuriated in the feeling of being clean again, the grave mud finally being cleansed from his body. He now revelled in the fresh scent of the motel shampoo and soap as he pulled on his clean t-shirt and sweats before brushing his teeth.

Eagerly anticipating the waiting bed, he made his way back into the bedroom, immediately seeing the sleeping form of his brother enclosed under the covers on one of the adjacent beds. A soft snore emanated from Sam, and he wondered briefly how his brother, who usually had such difficulty sleeping, could lay under the glow from the exposed light globe and sleep so soundly.

Moving quietly, he crossed the room and switched off the main light, shrouding the room in the dim light from the outside neon light which filtered in through the flimsy curtains. Silently, he made his way to his own bed, promptly climbing under the frigid covers and pulling them up to his shoulders.

"Night Sammy" he whispered, waiting for, but not expecting a response. A gentle snore was his only reply.

Turning onto his side and pummelling the lumpy pillow into shape, it took him only minutes to find a comfortable position. His body relaxed against the quickly warming sheets, allowing him to seek the solace of peaceful sleep.

_To be continued..._

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_Author's note_: **This story was inspired by the first sentence – which I've had written down for a while. I'm hoping not to get carried away – this should just be a short three chapter story.**

**Thank you for reading. If you've reached this point it should mean you****'ve read the whole chapter. I'd appreciate a review, letting me know what you think.** _Please!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone for the inspiring reviews! This is just a short chapter of Sam's pain. Actually, this whole story is based on Sam and pain. What can I say; we all get our kicks in different ways.

**Untended Wounds **

Written by Kokoda2007

**Chapter 2**

When Sam woke up the room was still illuminated by the outside lights, dawn still a few hours away. Instinctively he surveyed the quiet room, trying to determine what had roused him from sleep. Seeing nothing untoward lurking in the shadows and his brother sleeping peacefully in the next bed he immediately released his breath and relaxed his guard.

No longer feeling threatened, he at once became conscious of the sticky liquid coating his shoulder and the damp patch below on the mattress and pillow. Running his tongue over his dry lips, he pushed himself to a sitting position, wanting to move away from the damp bed. Biting his lip, he tried to stop the gasp of pain that escaped with the simple movement.

Seated on the edge of the bed with his feet resting on the cold floor he looked down at the now exposed red stained sheets, evident even in the dim light.

A wave of apprehension washed over him as he took in the wide spread stain, evidence of the injury that he had forgotten to tend. Reaching over his shoulder, he felt the jagged area, his fingers coming away coated in thick clotting blood. In his mind he ran over the events that had resulted in the injury, remembering the protruding metal garden stake that he had been tossed against, and gave silent thanks that the injury wasn't more severe. He'd obviously moved around a little in his sleep, disturbing the clotting blood and causing the uncovered wound to continue bleeding. He wished he could see the injury, but its position prevented it, so he couldn't assess how deep the cut actually was. He just hoped that he had managed to clean it thoroughly under the shower, not wanting it go through the rigmarole that an infection entailed.

Looking at the sleeping form of his brother, he wondered whether to wake him up now, or to wait a few more hours until morning to stitch his wound. They'd had a long evening and had both returned to the motel exhausted and he knew Dean really needed a good nights sleep. Then again, he knew Dean would be furious if the wound got infected because he neglected to get it tended too.

Deciding that thinking about it didn't bring him any closer to a solution, he realized he had to wake his brother. But first, he was really thirsty and desperately needed to get a drink of water. Then he'd wake Dean; after all, a few more minutes wouldn't make any difference now.

Standing quickly was a mistake. He realized as soon as he stood that he should have taken things more slowly. Dizziness assaulted him in a rush and his periphery vision blurred out of focus. Too far away from the wall to lean on it for support, he was forced to abruptly slump back onto the bed, ending up back where he started. He took a few deep breaths until the feeling of nausea abated and the room swum back into focus.

Shuffling on the bed to move closer to the wall, he stood more slowly this time, keeping a hand on the wall for support. Standing upright, it took a moment to gain his balance before he felt confident in abandoning the security of the wall. He made his was tentatively towards the bathroom, leaning on furniture and the wall on the way to prop himself up when he felt his body falter. Relief washed over him when he reached his goal and he closed the bathroom door quietly behind him before switching on the overhead light. It wouldn't hurt to let Dean get a few more minutes sleep before he woke him up.

Leaning against the sink, he swallowed back the nausea that rose in his throat as he struggled to get his breathing under control. The short trip had taken more out of his than he'd thought.

Turning on the water, he cupped his hand and took a few small sips of the cold liquid, before running his damp hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face. His pale complexion stared back at him in the mirror.

The wound on his shoulder throbbed in time with his pulse and a small trickle of blood had resumed it's trickly down his back. His t-shirt felt sticky and damp and he carefully pulled it over his head, flinching at the pain the movement caused. Looking in the mirror, he still couldn't see the inconveniently positioned wound, only the rusty coloured blood matting his shoulder and surrounding areas.

Folding one of the used damp bath towels, he pressed it firmly against his shoulder, causing a shaft of pain to resonate through his entire body. He gasped, determined to bring the pain under control whilst maintaining pressure on the injury.

As another wave of nausea assaulted him, he was defenceless in fighting it back. Instead he slumped to his knees in front of the toilet and swallowed convulsively as he waited for the retching to begin.

Unintentionally, he dropped the folded towel from his bleeding shoulder as he was forced to place two hands on the edge of the toilet to support himself as his body violently expelled its stomach contents. As the final few dry heaves slowly diminished he could feel the torn flesh on his shoulder pull against the demands of his trembling body.

Calling on energy reserves he wasn't sure he had, he rose shakily to his feet, using the sink to help pull himself up. The room spun unevenly around him, and he felt another wave of nausea assault him. He swallowed it down, knowing he didn't have the strength to go another round.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bathroom sink, waiting for the vertigo to stop. A slight tremble shook through his body as he struggled with the effort of remaining upright. He suddenly felt unsure about whether he'd be able to make it back to the bedroom, to get to his brother, to get the help he needed.

His shoulder throbbed and he again felt the thin trickle of blood flow down his back, small drops of crimson splattering on the floor tiles near his feet. His body swayed unsteadily, slowly losing its fight to remain standing.

"De …Dean" he called weakly, the sound echoing in the small room.

Sam slumped to the floor, leaning his side against the wall from his seated spot on the cold tiles. The cold seemed to seep through his body, adding to the tremble that ran through him.

"Dean" he called louder this time, using his remaining strength.

He hung his head against his knees and closed his eyes against the dizziness. He swallowed, desperate for some moisture in his parched throat, but only gagging on the lingering taste of sickness.

He waited, hoping his brother would answer his call.

_To be continued…_

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_Author's note_: **No apologies for the cliff-hanger – I did it on purpose. As always, thank you for reading. I'd appreciate a review, letting me know what you think.**_ Please!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who took the time to review the last chapters. Glad you're still with me – now for the next chapter…

**Untended Wounds **

Written by Kokoda2007

**Chapter 3**

Dean rolled over in the bed, pulling against the call to wakefulness.

Blinking open his eyes, he looked around the room, immediately seeking out his brother. Sleep vanished from his tired body as he took in the now empty bed, where his brother should be lying.

"Sam …Sam?"

Dean rose from his bed, his movements hasty as he called his brother's name. Seeing the sliver of light under the bathroom door, he moved forward, intent on heading in that direction.

One closer glance at Sam's now vacant bed was enough to spur him into quickening his pace as he moved across the room.

Sam's bed was covered in blood. Sam wasn't in it. Dean didn't know whether to be thankful for that or not.

"Sam, you in there …Sam" Dean pounded on the wooden door.

His gut twisted, concern easily taking precedence over any presumption he had about barging into the occupied bathroom. Turning the door knob, he was relieved to find it unlocked, removing the necessity for him to kick it open.

He stood, mute for a moment, as his gaze rested upon the slumped form of his brother on the bathroom floor. Droplets of blood decorated the tiles around him and the sour smell of vomit permeated the air.

Snapping into action, he sank to his brother's side, relieved when Sam raised his head in surprise.

"Dean." Sam smiled weakly at his brother, the lines of pain evident on his pale face.

"God …Sam …what happened …where are you hurt?"

"Sorry Dean… …I …I fell asleep. Was gonna wake you …I …I don't feel so great."

Dean gripped his brother's shoulders as Sam started to slide against the wall and topple towards the floor. Sam yelped at the contact, Dean's fingers veering too close to his injured shoulder.

Hearing Sam cry of pain, Dean loosened his grip, pulling his brother forward into his chest so that he could more easily view his brother's back. A lump lodged in his throat as he took in the jagged puncture wound on his brother's upper shoulder.

"Shit Sam …why didn't you say something."

"Sooorrrry" Sam slurred into Dean's chest, resting his head against his brother's warmth.

Still holding Sam's shoulders, Dean eased his brother away from him slightly, so that he could look at Sam's face.

Unhappy with being removed from the warmth, Sam blinked at his brother. He tried to focus on Dean's face, but the image kept wavering, causing his stomach to churn uncomfortably. He gave up, dropped his heavy head and closed his eyes.

"Come on Sam, stay with me. Sam!" Dean gripped his brother's chin, holding up his head.

"Yeah." Sam answered, but didn't open his eyes.

"Sam! Are you hurt …bleeding anywhere else?"

"Just my …ah …shoulder."

"I'm gonna help you back to bed, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, ready …up we go."

Dean braced his legs before gripping his brother under the arms and hoisting him to his feet. Sam offered no resistance and little help with the manoeuvre. Once upright, Sam wavered on the spot, leaning heavily on his brother. Pulling Sam close into his side, Dean wrapped one arm around Sam's waist before pulling his brother's other arm over his shoulder, keeping a firm grip of his hand to stop him from slipping. Bearing most of his brother's weight, Dean guided them back into the bedroom.

Again, the image of the blood stained bed hit him with shock. He gently released his grip on Sam, lowering his brother to sit back on the crimson stained bed.

Leaving his brother momentarily, Dean raced to switch on the light and grab their first aid kit. Returning quickly to his brother's side, he was relieved to find Sam seated in the same position, although he was wavering slightly, hands gripping the bed sheets as he obviously fought to keep his balance.

Sam struggled to remain upright, fighting against the lure of just lying back down and going to sleep. He knew that falling asleep was what had gotten him in this mess in the first place. Determination was imbedded in his character, and he called upon all of it to remain conscious. Breathing through the nausea and pain, he gripped the edge of the bed and tried to keep still, eyes closed as he waited for his brother.

A gentle hand landed in the centre of his chest, just as he started to sway dangerously forwards towards the floor. He let the hand push him carefully backwards, supporting him in an upright position.

"Its okay ...I gotch ya," whispered softly by his ear as Dean eased him back on the bed, positioning him to lie on his stomach. He could smell the damp odour of stale blood on the bed.

Sam lost consciousness as Dean tended the wound on his shoulder, pain and blood loss finally taking their toll.

Dean was somewhat glad that Sam had passed out as he began cleaning the blood off his shoulder and from around the punctured skin. He meticulously checked the wound site to remove any traces of dirt before suturing the torn skin closed. Grabbing some gauze, he held it tightly against the site, applying pressure to stop the small trickle of blood still escaping. Sam let out a deep moan, but didn't wake up. About 15 minutes of pressure was enough to stem the bleeding and Dean covered the area with antibiotic cream before covering the wound.

Sam remained passive as the area was cleaned and stitched before being firmly bandaged. Dean checked his brother's pulse, reassured to feel it strong but rapid beneath his fingers. Looking at his pale brother spread face down on the bloody bed he couldn't suppress the apprehension he felt as he tried to calculate just how much blood his brother had lost.

"Sam …Sam …Sammy" Dean gently shook his brother, trying to rouse him. "Come on man, enough beauty sleep …time to wake up now."

Sam moaned at the intrusion, fighting against the pull to full consciousness.

"Come on Sam …you're too freakin' heavy for me to be carrying your arse."

Sam opened a bleary eye, a whimper escaping at the harsh light.

"Come on man, work with me here …I'll even let you have my bed." Dean pleaded.

Seeing his brother starting to wake, Dean positioned himself to turn Sam on his side before hauling him back into a sitting position. Sam offered little assistance with the move, arms hanging uselessly at his side as he allowed Dean to shift him. With a supporting hand on his brother's frame, Dean crouched at the side of the bed, giving Sam a moment to adjust before moving him again.

"Dean …wh…what happened?"

"You know …if you don't like the color of the sheets …next time, just say something …"

Sam looked down at the ruined bedding.

"Come on Sam, you with me? …wouldn't mind a little help shifting you heavy arse to the other bed. …you know, I'm gonna let you have my bed tonight …because I'm awesome and everything ...Sam?"

"Nahhh, it's alright …I …I'll sssssleeeeeep heeeere." Sam slurred.

"No arguments Sam." Dean stated, pulling his unsteady brother to his feet.

Fortunately the other bed was only a couple of steps away, and Dean held Sam tightly as he inched him forwards before allowing him to collapse down on the bed, easing him to lie on his side. Before his brother got too comfortable, Dean pulled the blood splattered sweat pants from his legs, leaving him clad in a pair of boxers.

"Dean, ah ...wh …what yooouuu doin'? Sam asked in confusion, feeling his pants being pulled forcefully off.

Dean looked in concern at his obviously confused brother.

"Don't you remember?"

"Ah …I …um…"

"You wet the bed Sammy …thought you'd finally outgrown that habit..." Dean pulled the covers over his brother's shivering body, tucking them in gently.

"What? …Oh …ah …not funny Dean." Sam mumbled, slowly comprehending his brother's words. He pulled the covers in tighter, trying to get warm.

"Seriously, how ya feeling Sam?"

"Thirsty."

"Hang on a sec, I'll get some water."

After filling a glass, Dean returned a moment later to see Sam already half asleep, snuggled under the covers. He lifted his brother's head and raised the glass to his lips.

"Small sips okay?"

Sam took a few tentative sips, relishing in the feeling of moisture in his parched throat. As Dean removed the glass and lowered his head back down, he felt the weariness wash over him and closed his eyes. Sleep beckoned to him, and he no longer had the strength or will to fight against it.

Dean pulled a chair up beside the bed, sitting on it with his feet resting on top of the covers, next to Sam's side. He watched his brother sleep, waiting for the first few rays of daylight to creep in through the curtains.

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_Author's note_: **Of course I'd love a review (**_asking nicely_**). Honestly, I'm still deciding whether to end this story here, or (as I often get sucked into doing) finding a way to hinder Sam's recovery. Maybe a sequel - very soon. I'm also thinking of **_maybe_** writing a story where Sam isn't one step from death's door. **

To everyone following my other story "Obstruction", I haven't forgotten it – I will update soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **Just wanted to say thank you for all the great reviews – so I've written a final chapter for everyone who asked so nicely.

**Untended Wounds **

Written by Kokoda2007

**Chapter 4**

His head felt fuzzy, thick and heavy, like he'd had too much to drink the night before. He wasn't yet ready to open his eyes, to face a new day.

Lying still, he categorically assessed each of his limbs by moving his muscles a mere fraction, searching for the source of his lethargy.

Moving was a mistake he instantly regretted as pain signals travelled haphazardly through his body. His shoulder throbbed with red hot pain competing for attention with his aching head. It felt as though a jack hammer was chipping away at his skull from the inside out.

He remembered, yet wondered briefly how he could have forgotten. He remembered the wound. The bleeding. He remembered Dean patching him up. _Where was Dean _he wondered.

Opening his eyes took all his concentrated effort and he couldn't suppress a groan as the ray of light reached his open eyes, increasing the pain hammering inside his head.

"Hey Sam …good to see you awake man." Dean spoke from the chair positioned at the side of the bed.

Sam angled his head towards the sound of his brother's voice. "Uummm ahhh." His tongue felt swollen in his mouth and the signals from his brain to his mouth seemed confused and disconnected.

"How you feeling …I should probably check you shoulder again …God dammit Sam …you gave me a hell of a fright last night …what were you thinking …you know how it is …how important it is …to take care of injuries …God, Dad drummed it into us often enough."

"Sorry …I meant to…"

"You could've bled to death Sam, right there on the God damn bathroom floor …there was so much blood …if I hadn't woken up …found you…"

"Dean…"

"No Sam" Dean paused and took a much needed breath. " …I should've seen that you were hurt …should've noticed…"

"Dean…"

"God dammit Sam …you ever do that to me again and I swear to God I'll kill you myself."

"Dean! …I need …can ya get me a drink …please." He was so thirsty and try as he might to swallow and bring some saliva to his mouth it remained bone dry.

He tried to focus on Dean, but his brother wavered in and out of his vision as he moved away from the bed. He felt light-headed and dizzy and as he pulled himself up a little in the bed he had to fight to remain conscious. He let his head hang low and tried to take a couple of deep even breaths to clear away the cobwebs on his brain. He felt the dizziness retreat slightly, but the position caused his stitches to pull and he was forced to raise his head again. He slouched back against the bed head and closed his eyes.

"Here you go."

He opened his eyes again and reached for the glass of water Dean was holding out to him. His hands trembled as he tried to grasp the glass and a few drops sloshed over the edge and onto the bed covers. When Dean wrapped a hand over his own he felt more confident in raising the glass to his lips. He drank thirstily, gulping down a large mouthful of water.

Dean pulled the glass away from Sam's lips. "Slowly …just small sips."

Sam nodded in reply and Dean let him direct the glass back to his lips. He took a few more small sips, savouring the cool water as it quenched his parched mouth and throat.

"That's enough …for now …you can have a bit more soon …soon as I know you can keep that down ...alright?" Dean placed the glass on the bedside table.

"Thanks Dean."

"Think you can lean forward a bit for me …I wanna check your stitches."

'Yeah."

Sam braced his hands on his upper thighs and leant forward so that Dean could see his shoulder. As he felt the bandage being pulled aside he couldn't prevent his body from tensing, anticipating the pain. He knew Dean was trying to be gentle, but every touch ignited new pain sensors and he couldn't stop the few moans of misery that escaped as Dean probed the tender area.

"How …how's it look?" Sam cringed at the sound of his quivering voice.

"Yeah …ah …the good news is that it's stopped bleeding …but it's looking a little red 'n puffy…"

"God Dean!" Sam yelped in pain as Dean firmly pressed the bandage back down.

"…ah Sam …I know you don't wanna hear this …but its looking pretty red man …it's definitely infected."

"How bad?"

"Doctors visit."

"Can't we just…"

"No, you'll probably need antibiotics or something …I'll see if there's a clinic in town."

Sam closed his eyes, too tired to argue with his brother, too tired to whisper even a single word of complaint when he heard Dean start to tap away on his laptop keyboard. He let his mind drift, heading back towards the pain free solace of sleep.

"Sam, wake up."

He opened his eyes again. He hadn't had time to get properly back to sleep, but he'd enjoyed floating in that place somewhere between awake and asleep.

"…'m not asleep."

"Yeah well, looks like the closest clinic's in the next town over …might as well check-out of here this morning …we're heading that direction anyway …no sense in doubling back."

Dean closed the laptop and shoved it back into Sam's leather satchel before moving around the room and gathering the rest of their belongings.

"Ah …think we're gonna have do a runner anyway …before they see the bed, or the towels for that matter. God Sam, ya really know how to trash a joint." Dean tossed some clean clothes in Sam's direction before starting to pack his bag.

"Thanks."

Sam swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He felt shaky and not yet confident enough to stand – he just needed a few moments to gain his equilibrium.

For once, he decided to forgo wearing a t-shirt and just pulled on his button down shirt. Even manoeuvring that over his arms was painful on his wounded shoulder and he had to bite back the grimace of pain he felt on moving his injured joint.

The jeans were next and he decided to give them a go before asking his brother for help. He had some pride and asking Dean to help him with his pants was just, awkward.

He wasn't able to use his arm to help push himself up, and this made rising a difficult process. Instead, he rocked back a little and used his body's weight as momentum to push himself upwards. The sudden change in position didn't allow enough time for his body to adjust and the room suddenly swam out of focus as he tried to gain his balance.

It wasn't just luck that Dean caught him before he smacked face first into the floor. His brother had been watching the manoeuvre, anticipating his collapse.

"Sam!" Dean was poised ready to catch his flailing brother when he saw him teeter forwards. He guided him back down onto the bed. "Take it easy …deep breaths." Dean crouched down in front of his brother and observed him closely. A sheen of sweat glistened against his pale skin and his breathing was laboured after the small effort. "Think you can get dressed – if I help you?"

Sam gave a small nod in acquiescence. He kept a firm grip on Dean's shoulder for balance as Dean helped him on with his jeans, socks and boots. "Thanks" he whispered when he was finally seated on the edge of the bed fully clothed. Dressing had completely exhausted him and he knew he was going to have to rely on his brother again just to get to the car.

Helping his brother dress brought back many childhood memories for Dean; of other times when Sam was small and he'd dress him in the morning before breakfast. As a toddler, Sam had always chatted throughout the process, wanting to know the name of each item of clothing, needing to know the colors and wanting to help with every zip and button. It had always made the ordeal time consuming, but as he looked back and the images flashed through his mind, the recollections filled him with warmth. The stark contrast with today's events didn't go unnoticed – and the comparison ignited a measure of anxiety inside of him. Sam seemed more unsteady, more weak and uncoordinated, than he should be. A visit to a doctor now took on a greater sense of urgency as he took in the limp form of his ashen brother.

After loading all of their gear into the car, Dean returned to the room to assist Sam. He practically had to drag his brother to the waiting car, with each step Sam got a little heavier and leaned into Dean a little harder. He secured Sam in with the seatbelt before closing the car door and jogging round to the driver's side.

The gravel spun under the tyres as he headed the car back onto the main road, eager to reach the free clinic as soon as possible. His brother had barely moved since he'd helped him into the car, and he had to keep glancing across, just to reassure himself that Sam's eyes were still open – that he was still conscious.

There was little traffic on the road and they made excellent time to the next town. He found the clinic with little difficulty and managed to park directly outside.

"Sam, you still with me?"

"Yeah." Sam raised bleary eyes to his brother.

He breathed a sigh of relief before moving around the car to help his brother get out. Sam offered no protest as he was hauled out of the car and unceremoniously dragged into the clinic and lowered to the closest chair. His body was wavering on the edge of exhaustion and every movement took him a little closer to total collapse. The harsh fluorescent lights burnt his eyes, sending shafts of pain through his throbbing head. He closed his eyes, making a feeble effort to block out the pain.

He didn't know how long he sat there, disconnected from his surroundings. He just concentrated on breathing and keeping the beckoning blackness at bay. When his body threatened to topple forwards onto the grubby floor he felt Dean's hand grab the back of his shirt and anchor him in place. He relaxed into his brother's touch, his body slumping to rest against Dean's solid form.

He didn't hear his name called, just the gentle yank to his feet as Dean pulled him upright. He felt the warmth of Dean's arm wrapped around his waist and heard the tender words whispered near his ear. His steps faltered a few times and the arm around him tightened its grip, holding him firmly. Not letting him go. He focused on the strength by his side and put one step in front of the other, trusting in his brother.

He let Dean answer the doctor's initial questions, merely nodding in agreement to the standard explanations and responses Dean provided. With Dean's assistance he complied meekly when the doctor insisted he sit down on the raised narrow bed so that his wound could be examined.

Pain pulsed through him as the doctor removed the bandage and felt around the swollen flesh.

"You've definitely got an infection here …we're going to need to clear it up with a course of antibiotics." The doctor stated as he cleaned the surface of the infected wound and applied a clean dressing.

Sam tasted blood as he bit his lip to keep back the moans of pain that threatened to escape as the doctor completed his task. He felt increasingly dizzy but resisted the urge to lie back on the bed, unsure whether he'd be able to gather enough energy to get up again.

Black spots invaded his vision and the doctor had to hastily grab him as he started to sway. He felt himself being eased down onto the bed and appreciated the feel of laying flat despite the pain it caused his shoulder. He blinked against the beam of light being shone into his eyes and held steady as a cold stethoscope was placed on his chest.

"Sam, you feeling dizzy, faint?'

"Yeah." Sam replied breathlessly.

"Can you tell me …how much blood you lost?"

"Ah…"

"A lot." Dean interrupted.

"That would account for the dizziness. Your body's having trouble compensating for the blood loss …you heart rate's a bit fast and you're obviously dehydrated." The doctor observed Sam's pale complexion and sunken skin. "Ideally, I'd recommend a transfusion or at least a drip to replace your fluids, but we just don't have the facilities for that here …you'd need to go to the local hospital. Your body should recover on its own, but it'll take a lot longer, and you'll feel weak and fatigued until your body is able to reproduce the blood it needs. It's also going to place extra strain on your body as it fights off the infection."

"No hospital." Sam spoke softly.

"Sam!" Dean remonstrated.

"Please Dean, I don't wanna go to the hospital."

"Well Sam, you'll need bed rest for the next couple of days and you have to drink plenty of fluids. Then you'll need to take it easy for at least another week. If the infection doesn't show signs of clearing up over the next day or two, you'll need to come back and see me."

"Yeah."

He let Dean help him sit back up and put back on his shirt as the doctor removed his gloves and wrote out a prescription. After thanking the doctor, they made their way slowly back to the car.

"You okay?" Dean asked, concern leaching from his voice.

"Yeah …where we headed?"

"Motel …you heard the doc, you've gotta rest."

"I can rest in the car Dean."

Dean looked at his brother in exasperation. "This isn't a discussion Sam …I'm gonna find us a motel and we're gonna hole up for a few days."

"Thanks Dean …you know …for everything."

"Yeah well, you trash this room and you're on your own."

Sam relaxed back against the seat, a small smile hovering on his lips.

_**The end. **_


End file.
